


your shadow stretches on so long (and so i must go farther)

by pawn_vs_player



Series: of feathers and thorns [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (harry potter has ptsd you can't take that from me), BAMF Women, Black Hermione Granger, Bullying, Childhood, Gen, Growing Up, Insecurity, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, POV Rose Weasley, POV Second Person, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Protective Siblings, Self-Hatred, Sibling Love, Social Anxiety, Unlikely Friendships, albus severus potter: smart cookie w/ a side of social anxiety, also canon-typical bigotry against muggleborns, implied/referenced PTSD, rose granger weasley: protective sharp-tongued bulldozer, scorpius malfoy: smol precious insecure fluffball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawn_vs_player/pseuds/pawn_vs_player
Summary: They say, "Oh, how amazing, to be the child of Harry Potter's friends!" and "You're Hermione Granger's kid?!" and "What's being a Weasley like?... What do you mean you only have one sibling?"They never ask you what being Rose is like.Or: Rose Naledi Granger Weasley and co., on growing out of your family's legacy.(Or: Rose is a protective mama bear, Scorpius is an insecure bean, and Albus is an anxious nerd. They're getting by.)





	your shadow stretches on so long (and so i must go farther)

**Author's Note:**

> A return to my natural style of writing in second-person. My apologies if it's confusing for anyone!  
> Also, I have not read the Cursed Child (unfortunately), so my characterization probably diverts from that book. Sorry! >n<  
> You don't have to read the other fic in this series, but it's about Hermione, so why wouldn't you read it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A baby brother, flying lessons, family ties, and moving past what your parents tell you.

Your first memory is of your brother- Mama rocking him in her chair, Baba cooking dinner in the other room, and you crawling up to sit next to Mama and poke cautiously at the pretty flowers on her chest. You remember her reply to your innocent question, and you remember asking a dozen more, only stopping when Hugo squirmed and burped, and then your attention was riveted on him, not your mama.

Your mama was amazing and your father was wonderful, but Hugo was new and small and quiet, and when he blinked big brown eyes up at you, you knew your little brother was the most precious thing in your life.

 

Mama teaches you how to braid your hair, standing in front of the bathroom mirror with her at your back, her warm brown hands deft in your thick hair. You pout as she tugs the strands into place, your scalp stinging. She rubs oil into the braids and tells you to smile or your face will get stuck in that expression. You turn your lips up obediently; Mama chuckles and kisses your head. Mama teaches you how to wear skirts and walk like you can kill someone with a blink. Mama teaches you how to cast spells with barely a thought, the action flowing first and the word coming nearly as an afterthought. Mama teaches you how to read, holding you in her lap with _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ spread open in your own. Mama teaches you to be careful about asking questions about the Wizarding Wars, and not to bother Uncle Harry on days when he doesn't want to speak to anyone. Mama teaches you how to hold your head high when people call you names for the color of your skin or the purity of your blood.

Baba teaches you how to fly when you're six years old, putting a broom in your hand and keeping his own broad palms at your back, ready to catch you. Hugo giggles and claps from where he sits in the grass watching you float. Baba teaches you how to make scrambled eggs and how to clean up after a messy little brother. He tells you stories about his own brothers: Bill the eldest who likes rare meat and lets you touch his scars; Charlie who trains dragons and let you light the candles on Hugo's birthday cake; Percy who works as Mama's assistant and has the best stories about the antics at the Ministry; George who always pretends he can't hear you talking to him and brings you chocolates and little gifts from his jokeshop. Baba tells you about his sister, Aunt Ginny, who's just as dangerous as Mama but tends to hide it behind laughing hazel eyes and a charming smile, where Mama never tries to hide who she is. Baba teaches you that just because you like someone doesn't mean you can trust them, and that you should only give your loyalty to those who deserve it.

Hugo teaches you how to clean diapers and run past the point of breathlessness and how to climb shelves without falling in order to catch the baby at the top. Hugo teaches you how to care for people and how to worry. Hugo teaches you how to make people laugh without making anyone else feel bad. Hugo teaches you how to make shadow animals with a squirmy brother in your lap and how to make funny voices when you read the stories Mama taught you to others.

 

Mama lets you trace her tattoos. The spray of roses and stars are for you, she says, and the small garden that sprouts from a crown is for Hugo. You kiss Hugo's and pet at your own to see if you feel anything. You don't.

You ask Mama where the tattoo for Baba is. She laughs.

"I have more than one, _kipenzi,_ " she tells you, tickling under your chin until you thrash and shriek. "Which one do you want to see?"

 

You've seen all of the ones she holds for Baba by your ninth birthday: a spell at the nape of her neck - _I taught him how to do it properly, but he'll never admit it -_ hidden in a little golden feather, the woven gold bracelet of ink wrapped around her left wrist, and the white chrysanthemum on her stomach she's never really admitted is for your Baba. (You looked up the language of flowers after she told you about her leg tattoo, the irises blooming from her ankle.)

You ask her when your own skin will sprout the pretty patterns. Mama laughs and explains how tattoos work, and tells you that you aren't allowed to get a tattoo for a long time.

That's alright, you decide. You can be patient.

 

Cousin James goes to Hogwarts a year before you do. You spend a week at Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry's house, sketching dragons on the attic floor with Albus and complaining. "I want to play Quidditch for real," you say, "with people who don't know my style."

"I want to go somewhere people don't know who I am," Albus says softly. You roll over and smack a messy kiss into his messier hair.

"You'll have to go live with Muggles for that, Al," you point out, not unkindly. "But I'm sure at Hogwarts there will be other people to stare at. Headmistress McGonagall is there, remember? And Uncle Neville!"

"We're supposed to call him Professor," he reminds you, but his mouth is curling up at the corners.

"We aren't at Hogwarts yet," you grin. "Don't have to call him that."

"Do you think..." Albus trails off, clearing his throat and trying again. "D'you think I'll do alright?"

You snort.

"Course you will, Al," you say, shoving closer to him and snuggling against his side. He's always so wonderfully warm. "Even if you weren't The Son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley-" he giggles a little at your imperious tone- "you'd do fantastically. That's cos you're _you,_ Al." You poke his arm. "Your parents don't make you great, you do."

"You're biased," he says weakly.

"Course I am," you say cheerfully. "You saying I'm wrong?"

"No!" he squeaks. You laugh.

 

You're as smart as your mama, everyone says, and usually that's followed with the implicit _so you're always right, like she is._ Mama and Baba are the only ones who point out when Mama is wrong- well, and Aunt Ginny sometimes. Uncle Harry is quiet about those things. You're pretty sure it's because most of Mama's mistakes were from the war. Mama makes a lot less mistakes now that she has a country and two kids to watch over.

 

Mama fields all her work off to her assistants on the day the train comes. She and Baba both take you to Platform 9 3/4, with Hugo coming along. He still has the roundness of a baby in his cheeks, though he'll pout if you point it out. You kiss his face and hug him tight, and promise you'll show him all the best parts of the school when it's his turn to come. "You'll write?" Mama says, and though it's not really a question you nod your head and say "Yes, Mama." Baba hugs you close and ruffles Albus' dark hair when his eyes catch on the stares from the other kids.

"They're looking at me," Baba says, and Albus clearly doesn't believe him but he smiles anyway. James pokes at Albus' sides and Uncle Harry draws the boys aside. Mama kisses your braids.

"You'll make me proud, I know it," she says, in her special tone that means 'the universe will rearrange itself to make my words come true'. "Have fun, _kipenzi_. Make friends. Hug your uncle Neville for me, and tell Headmistress McGonagall that there's always a cup of tea for her at my office." You smile up at Mama and nod firmly. Mama might not always be right, but when she gives you advice, it's best to take it.

The steam drifts. Baba sighs.

"Malfoy," he says, and you turn.

Platinum blonde heads, long black robes, scowling faces. Yes, that would be what Baba calls a Malfoy. You've heard him sneer the name sometimes over his morning tea, scowling at the paper and muttering something about _ferret-faced coward snake_ s.

There's a boy there too, beside those two towers of dark clothes and pale hair. Baba leans down to you. "Beat him in every test, Rosie," he says. "Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

"Ron!" Mama cries. You giggle as Baba pulls back.

Mama grabs your shoulder. "Give him a chance," she orders you, and then she lets you go.

You turn back to your brother, hug him firmly. " _Nakupenda_ ," you say, and then push him toward cousin Lily. "Have fun while I'm gone, kaka mdogo."

Hugo is smiling at you as you grab your luggage and Albus' hand and run to the train.

 

You take a compartment with Albus, knowing better than to leave him alone with James and also knowing that your cousin much prefers the company of those he knows. You curl up with your back to the window, reading the book Uncle Harry gave you, one about rare creatures (thestrals and unicorns and nifflers! oh, you're only a few chapters in but you love it already!), and Albus closes his eyes and puts on the headphones Grampa Arthur tinkered with.

You read in silence for a minute or two, and then there's a knock on the door. Your head jerks up. Albus, still lost in his music and with his eyes closed, remains oblivious.

You cross to the compartment door and slide it open. It's heavier than you like, and it takes you a few struggling seconds to get the cursed thing open.

You look away from the door handle to greet the newcomer, and your voice freezes in your throat.

"Hullo," the boy Baba glared at in the station whispers, glancing down at his shoes. "I-I'm sorry, n-no one- I mean- the o-other compartments are- I'm sorry, there i-isn't much room, do you have any space?"

He looks like a hungry dog who's been smacked for eating - woefully hopeful, desolately resigned. Clearly, he's already asked most of the other people in this car, if not everyone else, and been rejected every time.

You glance at Albus. You know how shy he is, how nervous he gets, but you can't just leave this boy out here alone. You're not that cruel. Even if your Baba seems to dislike the family, he surely can't have a quarrel with a boy your age - that's absurd!

"I have to ask my cousin," you tell him. From the way his mouth droops, he thinks it's just an excuse so you don't have to take the blame for kicking him out. Even so, he nods and shuffles back a little to give you a bit of privacy.

You shake Albus' shoulder as gently as you can. He jerks, eyes shooting open, but he relaxes when he sees it's you. You tap your ear, signaling him to take the headphones off so you can speak to him.

"Someone wants to sit with us," you explain softly. "Can he?"

Albus stiffens, eyes darting to the compartment door where the boy is standing, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

Albus bites his lip, clearly thinking it over. Eventually, slowly, he nods.

You smile, turning back to the blonde boy. "He says yes, but don't bother him if he doesn't want to talk to you, okay?"

The boy's surprise is clearly visible on his face. "Th-thank you!" he stutters, blushing hotly.

You open the compartment door, stepping back so he can enter. It takes him a moment to accept your silent invitation.

You wonder who on earth made this boy so afraid. You think you'd like to punch whoever it was.

 

His name is Scorpius, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. That draws a chuckle from Albus, and even words - “Never met someone whose name was as bad as mine before”.

Scorpius gives Albus a startled, shy grin. You glance at Albus and find him looking back, your sentiment echoed in his eyes: _Protect this boy._ “What’s y-your name, then?”

“I’m Rose,” you say, and hold out your hand. Scorpius shakes it gently, his skin looking white as milk next to your dark tan.

“I’m Albus,” your cousin says, not offering his hand but instead giving Scorpius a smile from over the top of his drawn-up knees. Scorpius has no way of knowing it, but that’s a damn strong recommendation from Albus - painfully shy, introverted, slow-to-trust Albus.

Scorpius’ eyebrows draw together. “Like… l-like the old Headmaster?”

“Mhm.”

Scorpius’ shoulders slump. “Oh…”

“What’s wrong?” Again, Scorpius reminds you of a beaten dog. You don’t like it, not one bit.

"I... I shouldn't be here," Scorpius murmurs, standing again almost as soon as he'd sat, trunk once again in his hand.

You frown. "What? Why?"

He looks at you like you've just told him the sun is purple. "I'm a  _Malfoy,_ " he says plainly. He makes his surname sound like a death sentence. "I'm n-not - I mean - " He looks at Albus, eyes narrowed, fingers clutching at the other sleeve of his robe. "Oh, no. You're a P-Potter, aren't you?"

Albus shrinks back. You frown. You like this boy, you're worried for and about this boy, but no one gets to hurt your cousin. "What's that mean, huh?"

Scorpius shrinks back too, shoulders colliding with the compartment door in a way that looks like it hurts. "N-n-no, I just, I shouldn't be here, I'll go, I'm bothering you - "

"Scorpius," Albus says. Both of you turn to look at him. Your cousin is peering at Scorpius over his sharp knees, squinting in that way that means he's thinking something through. "Why does me being a Potter matter?"

Scorpius' knuckles are white in the dark material of his robe. "I'm a Malfoy," he says again, helplessly, like he doesn't understand what the two of you aren't getting. "I can't - it's not right."

He whirls and opens the compartment door. "Wait!" you call, but he's already rushing off down the corridor in a flurry of black cloth and pale hair.

Slowly, you close the door and turn back to Albus. 

"The boats," you say. Your cousin, your wonderfully smart cousin, nods. 

He's frowning.

"What is it?"

He tugs at the birds' nest atop his head. "I know that surname. Mom says it sometimes when she's looking at the paper."

You remember that too, you think. Baba's frown and Mama's sigh. "My Baba does too. What section was your mom looking at?"

He shrugs. "News, I think. Mostly stuff about Potions. Once there was something about Azkaban!"

All at once, his eyes go very wide. You watch the pieces fall into place in his head and wish you could put things together as quick as he can.

"Rose," he says. "I think his granddad was a Death Eater."

 

At the boats, it's nearly impossible to get a hold of him. You and Albus scurry through the crowds, hand in hand, scanning for platinum blonde. 

In the end, you don't find him because of his hair. You find him because of the sound of someone else's jeers.

"Look! The little snake really did show up! Your da's got some real nerve sending you here."

Your head turns automatically. The color of your skin and the reactions it garners has given you a highly developed alert for bullies.

There it is: the splash of cornsilk hair atop a milky-pale face and a long black robe. Scorpius' eyes are wide and terrified. Somehow his face has even less color than it did on the train.

Your grip tightens on Albus' hand. You speed up.

"P-please, I don't w-want any trouble." Scorpius' voice is so quiet you can barely hear him over the crowd. He sounds terrified.

You speed up.

"Too bad," the bully sneers, leaning into Scorpius' face. There are others at his side, two girls and a scowling boy. One of the girls is smirking. "Your kind don't belong here, snake. Go back to your mansion and leave us alone."

"I'm just h-here to learn!"

"You're a Malfoy," the bully says, with the same plainness as Scorpius had on the train. You decide that you hate that phrase. "You're gonna bring trouble and war on our heads, so get back on the train and - "

The steel-enforced corner of your trunk collides with his cheekbone. 

He stumbles back with a shout, clasping his face. You slide in front of Scorpius, swinging your trunk back up in a ready position. " _Mjinga_!" you spit, almost feeling your mama's stern gaze on the back of your neck. "Leave him alone!"

"Who're you?" the girl who's been smirking demands, stepping closer. She's not smirking anymore. "Tom didn't do anything to the snake! The teachers'll be on your arse for this."

You glare her down. "That wasn't nothing. Back off. I can do it to you, too."

You hoist your trunk higher for emphasis.

"You'll get in so much trouble," the girl says, but her confidence is wavering, you can see it. "You might even get kicked out before you get in."

"Well, then I guess I'll go to a different wizarding school," you say, keeping your voice steady. "At least it won't have  _dhamana_ like you."

Albus gasps in shock. You hope he doesn't tell mama you said that; she'll send you a Howler for sure.

The girl backs off, slowly. You don't drop eye contact. "Let's go," she says, grabbing for the other girl. "C'mon, Tom, let's get you cleaned up," she says, pulling at his arm.

The other boy flicks two fingers between his eyes and yours. You roll your eyes and gesture with your trunk. He flees with his friends.

"You okay?" you ask, turning back to Scorpius. Albus is awkwardly patting Scorpius' shoulder, but it seems to have done him some good. His skin is a bit less like paper, at least. "Who were those guys?"

Scorpius shakes his head. "Why'd you d-do that?" he whispers. "You'll get in tr-trouble. For me."

You nod firmly. "Those kids were awful. If I get in trouble, I'll make sure they're punished too. They started it."

Albus makes an agreeing noise. "Rose, what you said - "

You whirl to him. "Don't you dare tell Mama!"

He grins at you. "Only if you give me your frogs."

You groan and fish the last two chocolate frogs out of your pocket. Darn your cousin and his love of chocolate frogs.

Scorpius is looking between the two of you with a lost expression on his face. You put your hand on the shoulder Albus hasn't been patting.

"Wanna share a boat?" you ask. 

Scorpius swallows, glances at Albus. Albus smiles at him. Scorpius looks back to you. He doesn't say anything, but he gives you a couple of shaky nods.

You grin brightly. "Great! Albus, did you happen to see where - "

"Boarding!" someone calls. "First years, to the boats!"

Scorpius grabs his trunk from the ground. "The left," he says. "Forward and left."

You smile at him. "Lead the way, if you please."

He blinks at you for a moment, but he does as you asked.

You grab Albus' hand and catch his eyes, raise an eyebrow. He nods, lets the corner of his mouth twitch up.

Good. You're in agreement: no one touches Scorpius Malfoy on your watch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, the Swahili translations that weren't in the last installment.  
> Baba - father  
> Kipenzi - dear one  
> Kaka mdogo - little brother  
> Mjinga - idiot  
> Dhamana - assholes (thus why Rose is afraid of Hermione finding out she said it)  
>  
> 
> Secondly, my reasoning for the characterizations in this piece, because I know some people will take issue with the way I characterized Scorpius. My reasoning is simple: after the second War, things changed a lot. Personally, I believe that Draco as well as his parents would have been put on trial for his role in the War, and I think that Harry Potter would have testified at both Draco and Narcissa's trials (after all, one was just a kid and the other saved his life). The Malfoys, in the end, betrayed the Dark Lord, so anyone with lingering faith in Voldemort's beliefs would reject them, but they were on his side for most of the war and were loudly purist, so the 'good' side, those who fought Voldemort (and support Muggleborns and Muggles and, you know, NOT GENOCIDE) are also anti-Malfoy. In the aftermath of the war, I think Draco and Narcissa would be kept in the Manor (Lucius would go to prison), likely under Ministry surveillance, and would have an extremely difficult time integrating back into the wizarding public.  
> As such, Draco would raise his son in a world that publicly hated the Malfoy family. Draco wouldn't be the asshole Lucius was, but as a result of his kinder parenting style, Scorpius would be more emotionally vulnerable to the extreme prejudice shown to him just because of his last name. My Scorpius is deeply insecure and has severe anxiety because of the way society has treated him as he grew up.

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for ending it here, but this is the last day the archive will store this story and i'm tired of re-copying everything over and over. idk when the next chapter will go up, but i'll be working on it.


End file.
